part 5
***Metropolis
The horrible ringing was back again. Splitting her ears and throbbing through her temples. It would stop and start, stop and start. Finally it stopped for good. Blissful silence. Then, inexplicably, a clear, friendly voice entered the room. Not nearly as loud, but no less confusing.
“Lois, if you can hear me, you don’t need to get up. Just wanted to let you know I’m coming home. It took a little longer since I was…called away for a time. Everything’s fine. Turned out well, actually. Anyway, I told Perry I would write it up before I left, and I’ve just now finished. Need anything?” There was a pause.
“A time window,” Lane muttered to the disembodied voice from her nest on the sofa. “The means for elaborate revenge.” She thought some more. “Something with chocolate...” She was instantly reminded of how queasy she was. “…for later.”
“Ok, well, I can always go and pick something up later if you want. I’m heading out now and,” the voice continued in a confidential tone, “I’m leaving by way of the roof, so basically, I’m home already.”
Well, finally. How long had she been lying here too woozy to stand, and much too tired to think? Far too long by her own internal clock. And now things were going to happen. This world’s Clark Kent would come home and they would work up a plan, and ….
This world’s Clark. ..coming home… to his Lois, or rather assuming that he was. How exactly was she going to tell him that while he had, indeed, come home to a Lois…?
“I am forever swept along in that woman’s wake,” she groaned.
How does that conversation get started? “Hello there, I’m Lois Lane, just not your Lois Lane, nice to meet you.”
Or maybe…maybe he would notice the difference? She had her own Clark’s word on it. Of course there were differences between her and the other Lois. Of course he could tell the differences immediately. Yes, even if he had one eye tied behind his back, he would know her from the woman who had been his wife. At some point, he’d said, she was just going to have to believe it. It wasn’t like there was a way to prove it. And he knew that trust was not a small, trifling matter for this particular Lois Lane. But eventually, if they were ever going to move beyond the whole my-former-wife-is-your-exact-double roadblock, she was just going to have to make that leap.
All that stuff about fate and destiny HG Wells had spouted in his pep talk before leaving them together, had always struck her as wishful thinking. Sure it would make things easier if everything just magically worked out because it was so written. If everyone had a someone out there assigned just to them, and no matter how much they messed it up, they still ended up ‘happily ever after.’ But then, what was the point of trying at all? Why make the effort, if what was going to happen was going to happen with or without your help?
The voice on the phone, though, presented an interesting chance. She wasn’t unwell enough not to recognize that. Winging his way home now was a golden opportunity, one which she had never imagined would avail itself to her. An opportunity she’d be crazy to pass up. A chance to answer the unanswerable question. And to put the thesis of their relationship, ok, not relationship, but…acquaintance-ship, yes, she liked that word…a chance to put the thesis of hers and Clark’s acquaintanceship to the test. Clark Kent was coming home to Lois. And was he ever going to get her.
She would play the role of the receptive and loving partner he was expecting. And if her Clark’s assertion, that he could tell her from the Lois he’d married right away, was true, then this Clark ought to know that she was not that same Lois as his Lois.
On hearing the familiar sonic boom announcing the test subject’s arrival, Lois gathered her imaginary blanket of serenity around her. Totally new age and flaky, she knew, but if the guy you had an aquaintanceship with could monitor your heart rate, and then had the gall to ask if something was worrying you, before you, yourself, had even decided, you had to learn this trick. Deep, slow breaths. Calming, quiet thoughts. Visit your favorite safe place in your mind’s eye. Not the beach. Too cliché. Not a country meadow. Too buggy. No. Lois closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and imagined herself hitting the ‘send’ button on a brilliant article. Over and over and over again. ‘Send’ she chanted inwardly on each breath in and out. ‘Send.’
The key turned in the lock. Clark entered. Showtime.
“Lois?”
As if he had to call. She disliked him already. How dishonest was that? Why not just say ‘Honey, I can see you through the sofa with my x-ray vision, and I’m home.’
“Here, honey…” Oh, she hoped Lois called him honey. “Er…Clark.”
<Send, send, send.>
He was smiling down at her with a big, sloppy grin. No doubt he thought that was charming, just like…him. Man, this could get confusing.
She turned her own mega-watt smile on him. Two could play the ‘aren’t I good-looking?’ game. < Send, sennnndddd….>
He frowned at her.
<Uh-oh.>
“You look terrible, honey,” he said in a sweetly sympathetic voice. “You ok?”
“What? I look terrible! You don’t think I’m pretty?!” She had bolted from her reclining position, which had proven to be a bad idea.
She collapsed back onto the sofa. The dizziness back in full force. This was a very stupid Clark Kent, obviously. She was every bit as good looking as that Lois Lane. More so. That other chick was way too skinny. That wasn’t healthy.
“Lois?”
She almost smiled at the confusion in his voice. Almost.
“I just meant you left because you weren’t feeling well. And you do look a little….”
<That’s right. Find that next word realllyyy carefully.>
“…pale.”
Pale? Hard to argue with pale. And she definitely didn’t have her new dimension sea-legs, yet. That was for sure.
“I am feeling a bit off,” she supplied sweetly. “Do you think you could…carry me to bed? Lie beside me for a while? Rub my back?” She had tried to put a little sex appeal into that request, but the nausea and wooziness might have dampened its effect.
She opened her eyes to find him kneeling beside her.
“I’d love that,” he whispered softly.
Oh, his voice. That has sounded almost…nice. Maybe she would like this Clark Kent. Maybe she would like him better. Maybe if HG Wells ever pulled himself away from his tea table and turned up to ask if there had been any mix-ups, she would deny it. How could they prove it?
He lifted her like she was a feather. She knew they were both super-powered, so it wasn’t the same as a regular guy hoisting her, but she did allow herself to feel all feminine and girly just for a moment. Big strong man. Ok, enough!
Clark carried her up to the bed and laid her down gently. He picked up a soft quilt from the trunk and covered her in it.
“I hope you won’t have morning sickness for long,” he said soothingly.
<Morning wha….t? Send! Send! Send!!!!>
“Lois, are you ok? Scared, maybe? About the baby…or other things?”
<Send, dammit. Send, send, send it all to hell!>
“Um. What? Um. No. Um. I need a drink of water.”
He was back before she pronounced the last consonant. Glass of water, two ice cubes and a straw. No, she wasn’t going to like this Clark Kent any better. He was just as irritating.
As she took her first sip, his hand moved lovingly to her stomach.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” she gurgled, spraying him with water. The nausea assaulted her from all sides, and she struggled up from the pillows.
“Bathroom, Clark,” she croaked.
He had her hanging over the bowl in the nick of time. Superpowers must save on cleaning bills, she mused in one corner of her mind, as the rest of her concentrated on losing what was left in her stomach.
Clark was holding her from behind, one hand wrapped around her middle, supporting her, the other holding back her hair. She did like him, she decided right there. What was not to like?
“Better?” he asked gently when the wracking heaves subsided.
“I think so…” she replied shakily. “Thank you, Clark.” She hated it, but even she could hear the tears in her own voice. Oh dear God, Lois Lane was in another world and she was pregnant and this sweet man might never get the chance to be a dad. It was so unfair. So horribly unfair.
“Can I take you back to bed?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes, and let herself go completely limp. He tucked her in. She was suddenly so tired. Overwhelmed and tired. This was real, this was happening.
“I should tell you…” she stammered, as his hand came once more to lovingly stroke her stomach.
“Hold that thought, honey. Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
The tears that she couldn’t hold back squeezed out from under her tightly closed lids and down her cheeks. He wiped every one. She cried all the harder for that gesture. For all of them. And now for the baby who was caught up in the middle of this twisted nightmare. Eventually, she gave out and slept.
***
At some point he came to bed. She was dimly aware of him moving around the room, turning off the lamps, brushing his teeth. She should wake up, she firmly ordered herself, wake up and tell him. He couldn’t just come and lie beside her and maybe try to…oh no. No!
Lane lifted her head. Could see that he was in a pair of boxers and nothing else. Oh, this was bad. This needed to be stopped. He didn’t know. He didn’t have that sense of the different Loises the way her Clark did. Test subject fails test, she thought with dismay. Hearts everywhere are broken. No, that wasn’t fair. He hadn’t really failed, he just had never met her. That was probably it. The reason her Clark was so clear on how to tell her from his wife…former wife…was that he knew them both. This man coming to bed had never met her before, he hadn’t stood a chance.
“Clark,” she tried to choke out.
He turned from where he had been setting the alarm. Glided over to her. “Did I wake you? You know you’ve been asleep for eight hours? How are you feeling?”
That warm hand was back on her stomach again. Lane gathered her breath, gathered her thoughts.
“Clark,” she tried again, and was pleased that her voice sounded a little stronger. That she felt a little stronger. Must be sleeping off the effects of the dimension-travel.
Before she could plan the right way to open the conversation that was going to ruin his life, he had slipped under the covers, pulled her over towards him, and tucked her into the side of his body.
All the air escaped her lungs, and the thoughts she had so carefully gathered, and had just been picking through for choiceness, shattered to the recesses of her mind.
She placed her hand on his chest, pushing him away, and turned her face towards him. She looked up just in time to see the expression on his face dissolve from quiet contentment to….alarm.
He was out of the bed before she could register his movement. Didn’t they know how disconcerting that was to a person?
“Who?” he spat in a tightly controlled voice. “Who or what are you?”
Her Clark was right. Had been right all along. Operation Test Subject a smashing success. All this world’s Clark had needed to do was to really touch her, get one really good look at her, and he had known. She would tell her Clark, she decided. If she ever got the chance to, she would say, “You were right, and I was wr-….not exactly right to doubt you.” Something like that.
For now, there was the matter of the man in the boxers towering over her.
“I’m Lois Lane,” she tried to say as soothingly as one would say ‘nice kitty, kitty’ to the escaped tiger that was standing between you and the door. “Tempus-”
If she had struck him with lightening, she doubted he would have moved any faster.
Inexplicably, he lunged for the bedside table drawer. He pulled it open, sending the contents scattering.
***
The box was still there.
Had she had a chance to get to it, even? Clark picked it up with trembling fingers and opened it. Empty.
She had tried. Lois had tried.
“He’s got her,” Clark said. “He took her.”
He sat back down heavily on the bed. His mind as empty as the box in his hand. The woman in the bed laid a hand on his back. He flinched away angrily.
“What did you think you were trying to pull?” he hurled at her, leaping to his feet. “How much time have I wasted because I thought she was here and safe!” He couldn’t rein it in. It scared him how good it felt to yell at the woman in front of him, despite the fact that she wore that beloved face.
“Get out of our bed.” He lunged for her, lifting her up by the arms and setting her on her feet none too gently.
She didn’t bat an eye. Just watched him with sadness in her face. He turned away quickly, not wanting to look at her, not wanting to see anything that might be sympathy or its relation. God knew he was sick of that look. After Lois had disappeared, people had looked at him like that, and nothing else, for months.
He headed for the stairs. Her voice stopped him.
“You know one day doesn’t make a difference, don’t you, Clark?” There was no challenge in her voice. That he could have handled. He wanted a fight, a screaming match. “That time…is…meaningless.”
He found himself sitting at the top of the stairs. His legs had stopped working. It had happened again. Again. Time was meaningless. Life was meaningless. If he had known the instant he had come home this afternoon, what would he have done differently? What could he have done? He couldn’t do this again. He just couldn’t. Why had he left the country today? Why hadn’t he come home with her? Why had he thought he could still be Superman and be everything that Lois needed at the same time?
The first time, it had been the not knowing that almost killed him. This time, he would know, and there wouldn’t be one thing he could do about it. The knowing would kill him
She had come up behind him. She sat beside him, this time not touching him. “She’s safe, Clark. Tempus thought a switch would be…interesting.”
After a time he said, “A switch. So, where is…?”
“Back where she was before. Back with…”
“Him?” Relief flooded him. At least she was back on familiar ground, with someone who knew her, who she could count on. Someone who…loved her. He swallowed hard.
“Yes. And if they are working on it from their side, then you and I have to do the same from here.”
“Listen….I can’t call you Lois. What can I…?”
“Call me Lane, I got used to that a while back.”
“Lane,” he said flatly. “Maybe you’ve never been on this side of things before, but I have. There is nothing that can be done. Nothing.”
“So, do you give up, Clark? That’s it. Kiss Lois and your baby goodbye, hope to see them again before the kid’s in college?”
He brought his hands to cover his face, tried to block out the mental image she had given him. His child growing up with that other guy. He had gotten to be Lois’ first husband and now this. He’d be the dad. Maybe this meant something. Maybe the other guy really was the dad and the universes were just setting things to rights. Maybe Lois would be…glad.
“We don’t know if I’m the father,” he ground out. He didn’t know why he’d said that. Of all the issues facing them, that wasn’t nearly the most urgent. “It might be him.”
***Metropolis2
“So,” Lois said at last. “Things are not…ideal with you and Lane?”
“Well,” he searched for the right answer to that. “I wouldn’t say ideal, but lately some progress has been made.” He thought it over some more. “Though I wouldn’t swear to it.”
“I guess she’s with Clark now. I guess they’re…”
“Having tea and discussing the awkwardness of having your partner’s counterpart pop in and out on you?” he supplied bitterly, toasting her with his own mug.
“He’ll probably tell her about the baby,” Lois stated, watching him closely.
“In that case, I hope he really is as invulnerable as I am,” he finally answered.
“Is it that bad, Clark?”
“Is it for you?” he tossed back.
“I asked first,” she grouched.
“While the relationship stuff is interesting, Loes, and I’m not changing the subject, you and I haven’t really addressed the overriding issue, you know? The one that trumps all others,” Clark stated.
“Which is?” Lois asked.
“We have no control over this. We have no idea if another year or ten years will pass before our man HG decides to take a look. There are the appropriate number of Loises and Clarks in each universe. How’s he going to know the pairing is…”
“…off?”
“Off, yes. Thanks.” He grinned at her. “Still writing my copy.”
“Is it off, Clark?” she asked him quietly. “Or maybe it’s been…put back the way it should be. I mean, are you…happy…happier with her?”
He turned anguished eyes to meet hers. “Loes, are you not happy? Does he…is he…an idiot?”
She smiled at that. “No, he’s not. But, things are…hard. Complicated. Not like this.”
“You know why, don’t you?” He smiled knowingly at her, back on even keel.
“Tell me, oh wise one.”
“Because you really love him.”
“Clark, I loved you, too. I would never want you to think I didn’t. That the time I spent here wasn’t…”
“Lois.” He waited quietly until her stammering stopped. “You know what I mean. You love me and I love you. That was true from the very beginning. But you weren’t in love with me, were you? I never made you angry. Never made you cry. Never made you…much of anything.”
“Do *not* say that. Of course you did. You made me a home. You made me a place in the universe. Those are not small things.”
“And you were grateful,” he supplied simply.
“Is that what you think our marriage was about? Gratitude?” she gasped. “Have you been telling yourself this the whole time?”
“Lois, it isn’t like it’s a bad thing. I don’t regret a day of it. Does…he hold it against you? I mean, you’re pregnant, and there is some doubt as to…um…the father. Which means, well, you and he have…”
“He doesn’t hold it against me, Clark,” she wailed. “He doesn’t.”
“And that drives you crazy doesn’t it?” He studied her eyes closely over the rim of her mug. “How could he not?”
“Exactly. How could he *not*? How can he be so sweet, so understanding, so… so…endlessly patient and understanding?”
“He loves you.”
“We’ve gotten off track,” she grumbled after a time. “We were on HG Wells.”
“So, we’re changing the subject, then?”
“If you know what’s good for you,” she glowered at him.
“Ok,” he agreed. “Does that work on him?” At her withering glare, he laughed. “Right, Mr. Wells. With one Lois Lane and one Clark Kent in each universe, how is he to know things are…” He paused significantly.
“…off.” Lois supplied.
He smiled like she was his prize student. “And even if he does, that doesn’t get us any closer to Tempus, who he swore would be dealt with effectively. This could be a regular thing, you know. The first of many visits. I’ll start asking as I walk into the room, ‘Is that you, Lois?’ And you’ll have to sing out…dammit.”
“I’ll have to sing out…what?”
But he wasn’t listening. His body had tightened in alertness. He was already far away.
“Loes,” he commanded when he had come out of the spin, “lock the doors, and don’t answer anything. I’ll be back as soon as I…”
“Clark, the man has a time window. Locking the doors isn’t exactly…”
“Just do it.” Superman gave her a hard stare. “Please,” he added a bit belatedly.
“Just go. I’ll be here.”
He was already in the air. “Hey,” he called to her over his shoulder. “Are you ok? Should I not go? What if…?” His voice trailed away. For just an instant Superman’s stern expression faltered. “What if Lane comes back while I’m gone?”
“Clark-” she started.
“I know, I know. Forget that,” he ordered, once more the composed superhero. He cleared his throat roughly. “You’re ok, though, right? You’ll be here when I get back?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ll be right here. Go do your thing. Don’t worry.”
He was gone in an explosion of colors.
tbc...
